ON THE OUTDOORS.

Tough sledding: Cancer survivor jumps into Iditarod

Mackey wonders how his stamina will hold out

March 03, 2002|BY LEW FREEDMAN.

ANCHORAGE — Lance Mackey was an Iditarod hero before the 30th annual adventure race even began Saturday morning.

A year after being diagnosed with cancer, Mackey is living proof that when it comes to the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, good bloodlines run in the humans as well as the huskies. Mackey, 31, felt so sick at the end of the 2001 Iditarod that he checked himself into a hospital at the finish line in Nome, 1,100 miles down the rugged trail from Anchorage.

Soon he had surgery on his neck and shoulder to have a softball-sized lump removed. He has battled illness, pain and fatigue ever since, but now he pronounces himself fit enough to complete what proudly is trumpeted as "The Last Great Race on Earth."

Mackey's greatest worry as he heads out on what promises to be a 10-day-plus, sleep-deprivation excursion that will test his health and willpower even more is his late training start. He doesn't fret about his 16 dogs' strength, but he does wonder how his stamina will hold out.

Those pesky radiation treatments will interrupt the best-laid plans.

"I think I am the weak link," said Mackey, who lives in the Kenai Peninsula community of Kasilof. "It was a rough year."

Not that you could tell by talking with him. Mackey has the type of enthusiasm for this event that organizers can't buy or manufacture.

He grew up around dogs. His father, Dick, won the 1978 Iditarod by one second. His half-brother Rick won the race in 1983. Once in their shadows, this Mackey has the entire state rooting for him.

"I'm glad I'm getting publicity," Mackey said. "But it was a hell of a way to go about it."

The Iditarod is Alaska's Indianapolis 500. It is a sporting event that is culturally rooted, linking a rough-and-tumble past with a more modern future in much the same manner that rodeo links the New West to the Old West.

"It's man against the elements and it celebrates the history of the country we live in," said Jack Niggemyer, Iditarod race manager for 16 years.

The 49th state sprinkles 620,000 people over 586,000 square miles. There are few main roads, and the terrain in most areas is as harsh as it was at the turn of the 20th Century. The 64 mushers and their dog teams may face blizzards, forbidding temperatures and gale-force winds as they work their way through the interior to the western Arctic coast.

"It's the most challenging race there is," said Rick Koch, president of the Iditarod Trail Committee. "There's a unique relationship between man and canine."

That connection has a long history in Alaska. Men and dogs were partners during Gold Rush days. In 1925, men and dogs carried life-saving diphtheria serum to Nome to prevent an epidemic. Even though the race has picked up speed, mushers still appreciate the spectacular scenery as sleds hiss along the snow quietly under the Northern Lights.

"It's the premier Arctic transportation," said Aliy Zirkle of Two Rivers, near Fairbanks.

Zirkle, 32, a past champion of the Yukon Quest, has not forgotten the pleasures of wilderness mushing.

"You get where you want to go," she said, "but not at high speeds, where you can't see the willow bushes and the moose and hear the wolves."

Iditarod champions are the sports stars of Alaska. Saturday's start always is ceremonial, with thousands of fans lining fencing downtown on Fourth Avenue. The clock begins ticking for real Sunday.

As usual, a mixed bag of characters is entered. Doug Swingley, 48, of Lincoln, Mont., is the only musher ever to win the Iditarod while living "outside," as the locals put it. He has become a juggernaut and is going for a record-tying fifth overall championship.

Rick Swenson, 49, of Two Rivers, possesses that record and is also in the race. Three-time champions Jeff King of Denali Park and Martin Buser of Big Lake also would like to derail Swingley.

Swingley, who understands he is the focal point, smiled slyly when he described the headline he wants to see after the race.

"Swingley's Taken the Fifth," he said.

Swingley has matched the retired Susan Butcher with his current three straight victories and also owns the speed record of 9 days 58 minutes.

Buser, from Switzerland, who has announced plans to take a U.S. citizenship oath at the end of this race after 20 years in Alaska, doesn't believe Swingley's record will hold.

"We're not maxed out," Buser said. "We used to be able to improve or break records by a half-day, but now it's smaller increments."

There are 21 rookies, mushers whom Koch figures were inspired as much by Jack London literary images as by the Swingleys, Kings and Busers.

Mackey may not match the star power of the champions, but his pluck has earned the admiration of race observers. At the prerace banquet Thursday night, longtime musher DeeDee Jonrowe gave the benediction and thanked God for "the healing miracle" that is Lance Mackey.

Mackey has received thousands of cards, letters and e-mail messages from Alaskans. A year ago people were praying for his life. Now they are praying for his safe finish.

"I feel like I'm related to them," Mackey said.

It is on the wings of their good wishes and the feet of his good dogs that he hopes to reach Nome.